


Caught Up In The Touch (Slow And Steady Rush)

by Firalla11



Series: Dreamwidth Transfers [6]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Post-Trade, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-06 21:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firalla11/pseuds/Firalla11
Summary: “Are you naked yet?” is the first thing Andy says.There’s a long pause, then a deep chuckle. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to be?”





	Caught Up In The Touch (Slow And Steady Rush)

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time there was a discussion on twitter about accidental phone sex. This is my part of The Results.
> 
> Fair warning for what I'm going to call initially undiscussed accidental voyeurism?? I'm not sure how else to describe it, so if you feel it needs more/different warnings please don't hesitate to let me know!
> 
> Title from Faith Hill's "["](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2Ch2Xvn77s)

_Home now. Give me 2_ , Andy types as he locks his front door.

He kicks off his shoes and hurries down the hall, back to his bedroom, stripping as he goes. He must’ve hit every red light on his way home. He’s more than ready to talk to Saader; talk, and other things.

He shoves his sheets out of the way and stretches out on his bed, palming his dick through the cotton of his briefs, half-hard just from anticipation. He bites his lip as his skin prickles. They’ve had this planned for a while, been waiting for their schedules to match for longer than a few minutes at a time.

He fumbles his phone with his free hand as he settles against the mattress, scrolling down until he can hit the call button. He slips his hand beneath his briefs as he puts the call on speaker, puts the phone down on the pillow beside him. His eyes slip shut as he thumbs the head of his dick, over the slit, then drags his finger down the length, goosebumps rising on his skin.

He lifts his hips and shoves his underwear down to his thighs, kicks them off as the call finally connects, his dick bobbing against his stomach.

“Are you naked yet?” is the first thing he says. They’ll have time for ‘hellos’ later. Saader’s been waiting as long as he has for this. Longer even, considering the time difference.

There’s a long pause, then a deep chuckle. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to be?”

Andy’s eyes snap open. That’s not– “Boller?”

“Yeah,” Brandon says. “You were expecting someone else?”

Andy hums an affirmative sound, his mind racing. It’s rich, considering _he’s_ the one who called. The one who called the _wrong Brandon_. How did he–

His breath hitches as he presses up into his hand again, heat pooling in his gut. Fuck. Fuck he still has a hand on his dick. He’s still hard, still wants to get off _yesterday_ , but he can’t– this isn’t–

He circles his fingers around his dick, moaning low at the touch, at the moment of relief, then he freezes, biting his lip. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, drowning out the sound of Brandon's breathing. Brandon, who he didn’t meant to call–

“Are you jerking it right now?”

Fuck. “Maybe.”

“Christ,” Brandon says. There’s laughter in his voice, and maybe– maybe something else. “I’m hanging–”

“Wait, no–”

He breaks off when his phone beeps, assuming Brandon hung up, but no, it’s another call – Saader calling him.

He taps at the screen, trying to switch over, to talk to him, ask him to wait a minute, but he accidentally merges the calls, can’t think of anything to say before Saader’s speaking, teasing him. “What took you so long? Hard to take your hand off your dick to answer the phone?”

Andy’s cheeks are burning. Brandon answers before he can. “Yeah, I’m definitely hanging up now.”

“ _Boller?_ ” Saader sputters. “What are you– why are you–”

“Long story,” Andy bites out.

“Not really,” Brandon says. “He called me instead of you.”

“Andy.”

“It was an accident!”

“Are you still jerking it?” Brandon asks, low.

“ _Andy_.”

Andy bites his lip, trying to still his hips, trying to _think_. “What?” he says. “It’s not like we haven’t talked about it before.”

It was really hot last time, talking about what it would be like to be with Brandon; his beard and his thighs and the way he’d probably be okay with pressing on Andy’s bruises– yeah. Hot. Like, the kind of hot that got them both off embarrassingly fast. The kind of hot that meant they may or may not have agreed if they had a chance to get off with Brandon, they should go for it, as long as they told each other all about it after. So. He didn’t _mean_ to call Brandon, but since he did…

A long silence follows his words, then, “Talked about what?” Brandon asks.

“All you, babe,” Saader says. Andy can practically see his smirk.

“Thanks a lot,” Andy mutters, then, louder, “We both think you’re hot.”

“And?” Brandon asks, playful. Teasing. Smug.

Andy rolls his eyes, exhales, speaks, “And if you were here I’d totally jerk off while I sucked your dick. I mean- if you were into that.”

The choked sound Brandon makes is going to haunt his goddamn dreams. He rocks up into his hand, trying not to get lost in that thought, in what it would be like to be on his knees, Brandon's dick down his throat, hot and heavy on his tongue. He bites back another groan, tightening his grip.

“If I was– aren’t you two together?” Brandon sounds- less than calm, suddenly, his composure ruffled.

Andy grins. “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t suck your dick. I told you; we both think you’re hot.”

“Saader?” Brandon's voice is kind of strangled, now.

“What he’s doing a horrible job of explaining–”

“Hey!”

“–a _horrible_ job of explaining,” Saader continues, “is that he has a free pass for you. It’s– I’m fine with it.”

Brandon's silent for a long moment. Andy bites his lip, forces himself not to try to rush Brandon's reaction, though his stomach is in knots, abruptly, now that he's had a moment to think past his lust-fuelled bravado. Brandon hasn’t hung up yet, though. That’s probably a good sign.

“Oh.” There’s no inflection in Brandon's tone. Andy doesn’t know how to take that. “You’ve really talked about this, huh?” he says, finally.

“Duh,” Andy says, taking a breath. “It doesn’t– _if_ you were interested, we could– now.”

“I’m… interested,” Brandon says, slow. “But only if– Saader? You in?”

Saader laughs, a little breathless. “Fuck yeah. You’re my free pass too.”

“Am I?”

“Obviously,” Andy says. “He has great taste.”

They both laugh. Andy huffs, but it’s mostly for show. They’re both joking. He knows that. He’s great, and Saader fucking loves him, and Brandon– Brandon's pretty great too. Yeah.

“Okay,” he says, eager. “So. Now. How are we–”

“Get your hand on your dick,” Saader says.

It’s Andy’s turn to laugh, though he inhales sharply halfway through, when he thumbs over the slit again. “You say that like it wasn’t already.”

Saader groans. Not like he’s turned on, but like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Andy laughs harder.

Brandon laughs too, and when he speaks his voice dips low, deeper, rougher than Andy’s ever heard it. “Still touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” Andy says. “Are you?”

There’s a pause, a rustle, then, “I am now.”

Fuck. Saader’s low moan crackles through the speaker, echoing his thoughts. “How are you– where?”

“You caught me on my couch,” Brandon says. “With only my sweats on. They’re not on anymore. Got my hand on my dick, just enough to feel it.”

“Fuck,” Andy says, low.

“Where’d you end up?” Saader asks, and he has to be talking to Andy now.

“Bed, on my back,” Andy say, squeezing at the head of his dick. He breathes out hard, loud enough for the phone to catch.

“Get your hand in your hair,” Saader says. “Pull it a little.”

Andy does, trailing his free hand up to his hair and tugging, sparks of pain, of heat tingling on his scalp, shooting straight to his dick.

He groans, almost misses when Brandon echoes him; the sound is muffled. Andy swallows. “Tell us what you’re doing, B, c’mon.”

There’s a wet, sucking sound that has Andy slamming his eyes shut, images playing across his eyelids, imagination running wild with thoughts of what that sound could be.

“Brandon?” Saader prompts.

“Had fingers in my mouth,” Brandon says. “Feels good.”

Andy speeds up the movements of his hand, hips moving to meet his fingers. His skin is prickling, heat pooling in his gut, breath coming faster. “Killing me,” he bites out.

He isn’t sure how he got so worked up so fast. They haven’t been talking that long. Maybe it’s the build-up. Maybe it’s Brandon. Maybe it’s that this is a new thing – a _hot_ thing, the three of them, the sounds he can hear, the things he’s imagining, the things they’re _saying_.

“Brandon,” he gasps out, and even he’s not sure who he’s talking to. “Brandon, I gotta–”

“You going to let me hear you come?” Brandon asks. His voice is still deep, but less even, less put together now. It’s fucking _hot_.

Andy groans, digs his heels in and arches against his mattress, his toes curling as he comes, shooting over his stomach, dripping down his hand, his wrist.

Slowly, he unwinds his fingers from his hair, wincing at the tug, and lets his hand fall to the sheets.

He refocuses in time to hear the hitch in Saader’s breathing that means he’s close.

Andy grabs a wad of tissues from the nightstand and wipes his hand, his stomach as he talks. “You should pinch your nipples like I like to do to you,” he says, and he bites his lip when Saader’s breath hitches again, then he moans – low, but louder than Andy used to expect.

He smiles to himself, listening as Saader’s breath evens out. Brandon's is still fast, still rough, and he doesn’t know what Brandon sounds like when he’s close, when he comes, but he wants to find out.

It doesn’t take long.

He barely has a chance to speak before Brandon bites out an “Oh fuck,” over the sound of skin on skin, of his gasping breaths.

Andy shifts, pulls his phone closer, listening until Brandon's ragged breathing eases. He feels warm all over. “We’re doing that again, right?” he asks, words spilling from his mouth before he can take a moment to think it through.

There’s a pause, long enough for his stomach to twist nervously, then Brandon says, “I’d be down.” He sounds fucked out. Andy’s cheeks heat. He wishes he could see the look on his face.

Saader hums an agreeable sound. Andy grins. That’s more out of Saader than he normally gets after Saader comes.

“And maybe,” Andy says, taking a deep breath. “Maybe next time you’re in town…” He trails off meaningfully.

“I– really?” Brandon says.

“Told you,” Saader mumbles. “You’re our free pass.”

“We could grab dinner,” Andy offers, thinking quickly. “See how it goes?”

Brandon laughs a little, quieter, edging on subdued. “What? Trying to date me, Mutt?”

“Do you want to be dated?” Andy asks, trying to keep his voice light, like his heart isn’t racing. Like this isn’t _important_.

The second it takes Brandon to answer feels longer than a year. Than several years.

“I’m not opposed,” he says, finally.

“Good, cool. Neither am I.” _Opposed_ is the last thing he’d ever be about this.

Brandon laughs again, sounding more like his regular self. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m starting to get that.” He pauses. “Saader? This is cool, right?”

“Obviously,” Saader says. “As long as we can grab dinner too.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Brandon promises.

Andy smiles.


End file.
